


To Be Great is to be Misunderstood

by TemplesarentTombs



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, Based on a prompt I saw and I had to write something for it because it inspired me, Gen, Ghost Abraham, I mean Abraham is already dead because he's a ghost, I'm expecting a bittersweet ending for this, It's also kind of inspired by the show dead like me, M/M, Real Estate Agent Robert, angst is to be expected, by character death, slow burn because that's sorta my thing, townhull
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 18:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12538020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemplesarentTombs/pseuds/TemplesarentTombs
Summary: Based on the Prompt:Ghost in the house: GET OUT. I WILL TAKE YOU-real estate agent: chill, it's me.Ghost: oh hey. Have you sold it yetreal estate agent: obviously NOT, idiot.~~Robert first started seeing spirits when he was nine years old. Luckily for him, his father was a very open minded man, and he believed his son whole-heartedly. His father and his sister were the only ones however, and Robert stopped trying to explain to people why he was so aloof and mentally exhausted all the time. It was a struggle to connect to people, especially when they all thought there was something a little off about him, so he no longer tried, despite his father's insistence.When Robert meets the frustrating spirit, Abe Woodull, his life is instantly complicated. But when Abe and him are the only ones who understand each other, will things improve for the better?





	To Be Great is to be Misunderstood

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted fanfiction in quite awhile, so I'm slowly getting back into it.
> 
> I did notice a lack of fanfiction for townhull and that's partly what inspired this. It's also a bit spoopy just in time for halloween.
> 
> Though I'm sure most of you already know, the title is from Ralph Waldo Emerson's essay, Self-Reliance.

Prompt:

Ghost in the house: GET OUT. I WILL TAKE YOU-

real estate agent: chill, it's me.

Ghost: oh hey. Have you sold it yet

real estate agent: obviously NOT, idiot.

~~

Robert first started seeing spirits when he was nine years old. Luckily for him, his father was a very open minded man, and he believed his son whole-heartedly. His father and his sister were the only ones however, and Robert stopped trying to explain to people why he was so aloof and mentally exhausted all the time. It was a struggle to connect to people, especially when they all thought there was something a little off about him, so he no longer tried, despite his father's insistence. 

Sometimes spirits would come to him and ask him to spread a message or sometimes to fulfill miscellaneous final requests. Sometimes they'd just want to tell him their stories and it would be sad, Robert would sob. But as he got older, he got harder. It took more to break his reserve. Usually the spirits would be able to move on from this world to the next after they'd finished what they'd needed to do. That helped. It did feel good to make a difference like that, even if no one could see it. 

Robert had found that one of the best ways to help spirits move on was to visit old places, and old houses especially. They seemed to have great trouble leaving their homes and Robert thought that made sense. A lot of memories were made in houses because that's where your life happens. Since he'd never be able to find someone who'd pay him to help spirits move on, becoming a real estate agent seemed the next best thing, since he would be able to go into houses and sell them to people whilst getting rid of any ghosts still there. His ability would actually help business, he found. He was helping people both dead and alive, and that seemed the best option for him. 

Today he had a house to go through and set up that his company had decided upon giving him to sell. They always gave him the old ones, as he was the most successful at selling them. 

“I don't know how you do it Townsend, but you're good with the creepy, haunted houses,” his boss, Mr. Rivington, had laughed at his own joke, completely oblivious to how close he actually was to the truth. Robert knew that Rivington would never believe him even if he did tell him, so he just gave his usual shrug and grimace.

Now he was driving down a jerky, dirt road on his way to one of the oldest homes he'd ever had the responsibility of selling. Apparently it was from the 1700's and Robert thought the home would probably be better suited to being historically preserved, but Rivington had insisted. 

The wooded area opened up to display a wooden house that was shaped like an old salt box. It was very new england-esque and Robert had almost no doubt that the place was haunted. He parked his car in the grass and got out. The air had a chill to it, so he pulled his jacket in closer around himself and walked next to the wooden railed fence leading up to the house. 

The door had a combination lock on it, and Robert pulled his phone out of his pocket and found the text his boss had sent him that contained the combination. After getting the lock off, he pushed the door open gently and it creaked open, as if it hadn't been opened in a long time. The room smelled of wood, like a hardware store, and must. Robert cringed as he listened to the sound of his feet echo as he walked inside and looked around.

Sure enough, he felt a chill in his chest and Robert immediately knew. He knew there was a strong spirit here. As he walked toward the stairs, the chill got colder. It was the feeling when he drank cold water after chewing mint gum, and it hurt sometimes. 

As expected, it got stronger and stronger as he stepped up the rickety stairs. It was a miracle he didn't fall through them, Robert thought wryly.

It was freezing upstairs, and dark. Robert pulled his phone back out and turned on the flashlight as a comfort to himself really. That's when he saw him.

Leaning against the window, was a spirit. He looked like he was costumed for a period piece that took place in colonial times. The man was small in stature, and he looked angry more than sad, but both emotions were there.

“Hello,” Robert started, staying put in the doorway of the staircase.

The spirit looked his way with a surprised expression. After a moment, the spirit asked, “You can see me?”

“Indeed I can,” Robert responded, edging closer to the ghost while trying not to get too close that he'd scare him.

“You can hear me too apparently,” The ghost looked bewildered, and he looked at Robert intensely, “I've been here for decades, centuries maybe. I'm stuck here just waiting and reliving all my mistakes. It's torture. Have I been waiting for you?”

“That sounds dramatic but maybe,” Robert shrugged, “I've been able to see spirits like you for years now and they usually know what they need to do to move on. Can I help you at all?”

The spirit groaned, and balled his hands up into fists, “I don't KNOW! I've been trying but I'm clueless!” 

Robert tried staying calm, but that was unusual. It was always the ghost that knew what they needed to do to move on, but this one had no idea. It wasn't up to Robert to know. 

He decided to change the subject, “Do you have a candle in here?”

“No.”

Okay then, “What's your name?” 

“It's Abe,” He said, crossing his arms, “What are you doing here anyway in my house?”

Robert didn't want to frustrate Abe, so he decided to be vague, “I'm looking around this house for a friend who's looking to sell it.”

Abe's eyes widened, “Sell it? My house? They can't.”

Great, a clueless and feisty ghost. Just what Robert had always dreamed of meeting. Lucky him. This was never so hard, “Well nothing is happening yet...”

“Nor will it,” Abe declared, passing by him and making his way downstairs.

Robert turned around and Abe wasn't the only one who was confused. He dashed downstairs too, “What are you doing?”

Abe stopped at the bottom of the stairs and Robert accidentally walked into the ghost, he was surprisingly hard and cold. 

“Sorry,” Robert murmured. Abe ignored him and kept walking.

“I'm going outside, your friend is here, yeah?”

“No! What, were you going to scare him away?”

Abe actually laughed, the first time Robert heard him do so, “Yeah, it's the go-to for a ghost.”

They'd both stopped in the living room area that was right in front of the front door. Robert had never met a more insufferable spirit before and he'd never had to work this hard to help one, “You didn't scare me away. Why?”

Abe shrugged, “You caught me off guard, I suppose. You're different from most people. Most people don't act like seeing a ghost is a normal occurrence. You're different.”

Oh how Robert knew THAT was true. Everyone said it. But the way Abe said it was more in a positive connotation. He wasn't making fun of him, he was in awe. Robert would be lying if he said that that didn't make him feel less alone.

“I guess I am,” Robert said.

“Are you dead too?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

There didn't feel like anything else to say. Now Robert had to tell Rivington that this house had major issues, they couldn't sell it. Not with Abe here. He only regretted that Abe couldn't rest in peace yet.

Awkward as usual, Robert made to leave, “I guess I'll probably see you again at some point if I'm around. I won't sell your house.”

Abe grasped Robert's forearm before he could leave and the pain from the cold could be felt in Robert's very bones. Ghosts didn't often touch him.

“Live, but please come back. I want to be able to move on more than I've ever wanted anything,” Abe's desperate look hurt Robert almost as much as his hand did. And their faces were close. Robert looked down to his arm and Abe let go, as if he could tell what Robert was asking with just the glance. 

Robert nodded, speechless to say anything else. He walked out the door and rushed to his car. Quickly, he turned the key and blasted the heat on high. His arm still hurt and he had the lingering fear that he'd lost his touch. That he no longer had any gifts, that they were only the curses of seeing the pain of spirits but not being able to help them. Abe was stuck here and there was nothing he thought he could do. Then there was the trouble of having to tell Rivington that the house was in no shape to be sold. And, really, it wasn't in great shape. It needed work. There was truth to that.

As he pulled his car into the driveway, Robert sighed. He felt like he'd failed Abe. No one else would understand. Sure, he'd talk to his Dad about it and his sister would always be a good, reliable shoulder to cry on, but no one would really understand it like he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! !


End file.
